Page 24 of Dangerous Games

“Try to make it clean, Gio,” Matteo calls after me.

“That’s always the goal, boss.” I flick my hand up in the air without looking back.

Getting out of there means I have more time to dig into Bronwyn’s dad without interruptions.

I hear Matteo snort in the distance before following that with, “You’ve never tried to keep it clean a day in your life.”

I smile to myself as I leave his house, knowing it’s too damn true.

This time after I’m done, I head home instead of going to the pizzeria, not wanting to risk being seen again. I don’t need another reason for Matteo to be on my ass.

My house feels empty as I walk through it, heading to my room. It’s funny because I’ve never felt like that before. Not even when I bought it. It’s disgustingly big for one person, but it made the most sense to live in the same neighborhood as my family in case shit hits the fan.

My laptop catches my eye as I unbutton my shirt and shrug it off, tossing it in the direction of the hamper. It falls short and lands on the floor in front of it. I remove my gun from my pants and set it on my nightstand before grabbing my laptop off and sit down on my bed. Curiosity gets the best of me, and before I know it, I’m logging in to check the camera footage at the pizzeria.

I need to get another taste of her before I lose my mind. One time wasn’t enough. I want the real thing, but for now her panties I swiped will have to do. Leaning over, I open my nightstand drawer and grab them out. I bring them to my nose and inhale deeply.

I groan. They still smell like her.

“Let’s see if you’re home from work yet…” I toggle the screens, clicking on the camera history that’s watching over the back alley. It’s only noon, and from what I’ve seen of her schedule, she should be at work still. I could sneak over and get a fix from one of her toys, but that runs the risk of her walking in on me. She probably already thinks I’m a psychopath. I don’t need her thinking I’m a pervert too. I’ve talked myself out of some weird shit, but I don’t know how I would talk my way out of that without me getting a real taste that ends with me fucking her.

But on the other hand, I do love a challenge.

I scroll back in the history and watch her leave her apartment. She looks more tired than usual. I wonder if the stuff with her dad is getting to her.

I wait until I watch her walk out of view of the camera before skipping ahead to make sure she hasn’t come back. Just as I’m about to exit and head over there, a man walks into the frame, heading straight for the staircase.

What the fuck?

I lean into the screen as I zoom in on him. That’s not her fucking dad. My eyes dart up to the time on the frame. 11:33 a.m. I watch as he scopes out the stairs before walking up them and trying her door, finding it locked. The man steps back as he looks around. He looks right at the camera but doesn’t pause. He must not have registered it. About another thirty seconds pass before he heads back down the stairs and ducks under them, hiding out of plain sight so if Bronwyn came home, she most likely would have no idea he’s there.

I fast-forward the feed until it’s live and zoom in again, this time on the area I saw him hiding in.

He’s still there.

Motherfucker.

Picking my shirt up off the floor, I shrug it back on and button it up before moving over to the safe in my walk-in closet. This calls for the big boy. I punch in the code, listen for the beep, and open the door. I pull out my FN Five-SeveN and the suppressor. My favorite thing about this baby is that it’s as quiet as a mouse. It keeps the audience Matteo hates so much away. After attaching the suppressor, I snag a coat and head out to my Maybach.

Whoever this is, they’re going to learn today.

I hit the gas, reversing out of my driveway at record speed. The tires screech as I hit the brakes, throwing the car into drive. The rage flowing through my veins as I race across the city toward the pizzeria outweighs the adrenaline from the possible kill.

I parallel park on the opposite end of the alley from the stairs, blocking an end. As calm as ever, I open my door and step out, quietly shutting it behind me before I adjust my jacket and collar, making sure nothing is out of place before I kill this piece of shit. I walk down the alley, staying along the edge and not making a sound. The butt of my gun feels cool to the touch, begging to be warmed up.

The man is on his phone as I approach. He doesn’t look up as I lean a shoulder against the brick wall and cross my arms and an ankle, as I wait for him to notice me.

I haven’t seen him around before, but then again, anyone can buy a suit and make it look like they’re somebody.

I raise my arm, letting my sleeve ride up my arm slightly, allowing me to check the time on my Rolex. I’ve been standing here for five minutes, and he still hasn’t noticed.

What the fuck is going on?

One thing my family will never say about me is that I’m a patient man.

“You’re not very bright, are you?” I call out to him, my voice bouncing off the building walls of the alley.

The man jumps to his feet, startled.